by John O'Brien
The long motorway across the river, connecting Washington and Oregon, comes into view little by little until it begins its arch up to the tall bridge leading into the heart of Astoria. Leonard brings his binoculars up. The center span is missing. Looking at the channel beneath the bridge, he makes out parts of the superstructure poking above the water in places. The dropped bridge will make any further progress up the river impossible.
The docks and buildings of the small port come into view. Glassing the area, he sees nothing that looks amiss with the exception that another span of a bridge to the west has also been dropped into the chill waters below.
“Park us here in the channel and blow the foghorn.”
The loud, low-pitched sound of the foghorn resonates from the hills and sweeps across a town mostly hidden by trees and rising terrain. Leonard keeps his eye on the docks and streets for any movement. There is no doubt that anyone here would hear the low, mournful cry of the signal. Like the towns he saw lining the shores of Puget Sound, the streets remain empty. He has the horn blown again and they wait for an hour. Nothing.
“Turn us around and take us out of here. Set a course for Seaside,” Leonard says and climbs down the long ladder leading into the control room.
Sitting in his chair, he feels the heel of his boat turning. Looking at a chart of the seaboard, he notices that there are few towns they will actually be able to see. Most reside in ports and bays which aren’t visible from the sea. The ports themselves are mostly fishing ports with entrances between rocky breakwater jetties. There is no way he’s bringing his boat into those. They just won’t fit, and the currents there are even trickier than the Columbia River entrance. Seaside, as its name implies, is one of the few towns residing right on the shore.
If things look okay when they arrive, he’ll send Chief Krandle in with his team to have a look around. His concern about his crew deserting extends to Krandle and his team as well. He’ll just have to take his chances with them though as he’ll need them to go ashore at times. He admits he had some reservations about Krandle upon his return from the mission in the Philippines. The story he told upon returning was a wild one and caused some disbelief because it was so far-fetched. However, events have since proved him right and he feels he can trust him. He’s glad the chief decided to stay with him instead of going with Walker. Leonard isn’t sure he could continue with his plans if the chief and his team weren’t aboard. He knows his regular crew isn’t prepared to handle themselves if they have to go ashore. They don’t have that kind of training.
He rises and leaves control of the sub to the XO. His destination is the crew mess where he knows that Krandle and his team usually hang out. Sure enough, they are gathered around one of the small tables sipping coffee and no doubt talking about what a fucked up situation the captain has forced them into. That’s usual when sailors or soldiers gather. Leonard would rather have them bitching. It’s when they stop bitching that any commander should start to worry.
The room is empty except for the six of them. They rise at his entrance. He waves them back into place and joins them. With the exception of Krandle, their discomfort is easy to see — their fidgeting and their eyes wandering off; their minds searching for any plausible reason to not be here. Leonard has seen them all, with having to use the head being the most popular. He wonders just how many of them are thinking that at this very moment. It’s funny how these men can face the dangers they do yet get nervous about sitting with a commanding officer.
I guess that makes me scarier than a camp full of terrorists, he thinks, watching as one of the men places his hands on the table and makes to rise.
“Sit your ass down, Speer. You don’t have to go to the head and you know it. The captain has graced us with his presence and you’ll sit through every minute of it…and enjoy it,” Krandle says, still looking at Leonard but with a smile in his eyes.
With a sigh, the man named Speer eases back down.
“I won’t make you cringe in terror too long,” Leonard says, looking at Speer. “I came to talk with you for two reasons. The first is that I owe you all an apology. I didn’t believe your story when you returned from the Philippines.”
“That’s understandable, sir. It was a rather wild one,” Krandle states.
“It’s both understandable and not. Regardless, events proved you correct so I apologize. The second is that we are heading down to the town of Seaside. I would like for you to take your team ashore and scout the area. It’s one of the few towns with which we’ll have the opportunity to do so.”
“When will we be arriving, sir?” Krandle asks.
“In about an hour.”
“So a daylight infiltration then?”
“Yes, chief. We won’t be doing any night operations if we can at all help it,” Leonard answers. “I’m sorry but I don’t have any information on the town other than it butts right up against the beach itself. If something comes up, get out and we’ll pick you up. We’re only going in for a look so don’t take unnecessary risks. As agreed to in Bangor, you have the right to decline.”
“Let us look over the town when we arrive. For now, you can count on us going, sir. We’ll make a final determination when we get a chance to see it.”
“Thank you, chief… gentlemen,” Leonard says. He rises and exits.
* * *
The captain rises and leaves the crew mess. The captain’s coming here rather than calling for him impresses Krandle. It is something he would never have expected. He knows they didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye before but also knew Leonard was a professional like him. They could work within those guidelines if nothing else. Personalizing the meeting was a long step for them to begin working as a team. Krandle feels better about his decision to stay onboard. He still hates subs but his dislike is less.
“Wait… did he just apologize?” Speer asks after making sure the captain wasn’t going to make another sudden appearance.
“That he did,” Krandle answers.
“About time,” Speer responds.
“Okay, guys, we don’t have a lot of time. Game faces on. We’ll treat this like any other infil. We’re not going in weapons free but watch your corners and each other. Any fire, we respond in kind and disengage,” Krandle says.
“I can’t believe we are going in during the day. We might as well toot horns and wave sparklers,” Speer says.
“You’d rather go in at night, Speer?” Franklin asks.
“Well, no. I’m just saying.”
“You guys done? I can go grab another coffee if you’d like to finish,” Krandle states.
“I’m good. Unless South Side of Chicago here wants to add any of his expertise or deep wisdom,” Speer says. Blanchard just looks at Speer and shrugs.
“Okay. We’ll pick a place to land when we see the town and ride the zodiac in. We don’t know the layout so we’ll check out the main places in town. It’s been a while since this went down so we’ll be looking for tracks or other evidence of survivors. This isn’t a search and rescue so we won’t be going into buildings. If no one comes out, we don’t go in looking. We’ve all seen what happens in them. We stay together. We’ll determine rally points when we glass the area. No matter what happens, we’re exfilling two hours prior to sunset. We’ll stay on button three and use channel four as our zero button. Now, I said we weren’t weapons free but if something is an obvious threat, we don’t hesitate. Apologize later. We all come back. Any questions?” Krandle briefs. There aren’t any.
“Okay, gear up and meet in the equipment room in forty. I’ll go topside to take a look with Franklin and meet the rest of you down there.”
Grabbing his gear from his bunk and locker, Krandle ventures with Franklin into the control room to wait for their arrival at the town of Seaside. The wait is short and they are soon following the watch crew up the ladder. The quarters are tight on top with everyone up but, by allowing only one person to breath at a time, they manage. Krandle looks across the expanse of water at
the town abutting the shoreline.
“Seaside, eh? Original name for a coastal city. The town’s founders weren’t very unique,” Franklin comments as he too looks at a magnified view.
“No, but it looks like a nice vacation spot,” Krandle replies.
The city itself is right up against a pristine beach and stretches along the entirety of it. To the north, a waterway empties into the sea. Krandle notices a murky line of sandy water extending out to sea from the entrance indicating a strong current. Across the river, the beach continues on with residential houses set back a distance from the nearly white sands. The city looks to be mostly residential with cabins and smaller houses occupying most of the waterfront. He spots only two high-rises in the entirety of the town. They are two larger hotels next to each other bordering the long strip of sand. A dark line of wet sand shows near the small, cresting waves, indicative of a low or receding tide. This confirms the tide table information that Krandle looked at prior to climbing the steep ladder.
“What do you think?” Krandle asks, lowering his binoculars.
“Well, I would pick next to the river as that is the least populated, but that’s out due to the strong current. The shoreline north of the river looks unpopulated, but who knows how long it will take to navigate around the river into town. Same reasoning for the south shore,” Franklin answers.
“So, right up the middle?”
“As much as I hate to say it, yes. We just won’t have time to land to either side and get into town for a look-see.”
“That’s my thinking. The guys aren’t going to like it much. Hell, I don’t like it much,” Krandle says.
“We could always say no.”
“I know. It doesn’t look that bad. We haven’t been ashore since all of this went down and I’d like to have a closer look for myself.”
“Curiosity and the cat you know,” Franklin comments.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Good thing I’ve only used five lives so far. Plenty to go with some to hand out if needed.”
Turning to one of the watch crew, Krandle asks him to inform the captain that they are a go.
“Up the middle? Are you insane?” Speer says upon hearing the plan. “We might as well toot horns now.”
The ship’s foghorn reverberates through the hull. For a moment, the team stands silent and then all break into fits of laughter. Well, all but Speer. He just stands staring at the hatch above.
“I was only fucking kidding,” he says.
Gaining enough breath to speak, Krandle tells the team that the captain wanted to sound the horn to see if anyone responded.
“It’s not like they wouldn’t see us coming anyway,” Krandle ends.
“Why didn’t we stay with the captain guy in Bangor? I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have launched us at the middle of an unknown town,” Speer says, readying his gear for the climb up.
“This was my call for the landing zone and you know it,” Krandle states.
“Yeah, sure… whatever.”
Krandle is used to this from Speer and takes it in stride. Speer’s sarcasm is usually directed at Blanchard so Krandle is happy it’s just Speer bitching. He knows once they are underway, this attitude will vanish and it will be all business. This is just Speer’s way of dispelling anxiety. Everyone has their own. Some teams joke around, tease, tell lies about their own sexual prowess and/or their teammates lack thereof. With this team, it’s everyone listening to Speer complain about one thing or another.
Speer isn’t too picky about his grumbling. One time he went on and on about how sea crabs were going to give them all away. Apparently, Speer believed the beach they were going in on was a breeding ground for a particular type of crab. He swore that command knew this and was out to get them because they picked that spot for landing. He came up with all sorts of facts and figures putting the number of crabs there at enough to completely cover the beach. Speer was certain that them having to walk over the crabs was going to make enough noise to give them away. Upon landing, not a crab was seen.
In an absolute episode of chattiness during a break, Miller commented, “Crabs damn near ate me alive. We were lucky to get off that beach.”
“Fuck you, Miller. They don’t come out at night,” Speer replied. It was unknown to any of them whether Speer actually realized he defeated his own previous argument that the beach was going to be full of them upon their landing.
“The only crabs you know about are in your pants,” Ortiz said, chuckling.
“Got ‘em from your sister,” Speer said.
“Hope you had fun with that, amigo. She weighs almost three hundred pounds.”
Krandle smiles at the memory. They finish getting their gear ready — waterproofing their radios, mags, and sealing plastic bags over the suppressors and barrels. Making their way topside, the team opens the storage locker on deck, removing the zodiac and readying it. They are soon in the water zipping their way toward shore.
Crouched low on the gunwales, they ride the ocean swells. The rubber craft, with its silent engine propelling it, rides up the back of each wave, crests, and then angles downward to the valley, sending small sprays of salt water outward. Krandle sees the shore ahead as they rise up on top, losing sight of it as they descend the slopes. The tall structure of the hotel in the middle of a stretch of houses appears in the center of his vision each time. And, at the summit of each ridge of water, it grows larger.
Feeling his M-4 against his chest with each bounce and smelling the tang of the sea, Krandle sees the small breakers loom ahead. He feels his heartbeat as his body is keyed up on adrenaline.
No matter how many times I’ve done this, it never gets any easier, he thinks as they approach the breaking waves.
In some ways it does get easier but in others, more difficult. Each and every time, he knows he is bucking the odds. He also knows that he would be keyed up even if it was only training.
Hell, who wouldn’t, it’s just fun zipping through the water like this, he thinks, listening to the hiss of the boat riding the open water before focusing back on the upcoming landing.
Each time the town comes into view, Krandle looks for movement or winking lights that would indicate someone doesn’t want their company. They reach the first of the cresting waves. The rubber craft slews side to side as they enter the rougher water. Krandle feels a lurch as the propeller has a hard time gaining purchase in the turmoil of a wave, but they are soon through it and riding up the next one.
The motor is cut and raised just prior to hitting the sandy beach and the craft glides up on the sand. The team instantly slides to the sides. Speer and Ortiz rush to the front to provide cover. Blanchard and Miller grab the front handles and, with him and Franklin providing cover to the sides, they rush up the beach with the zodiac in tow.
They rush past sand volleyball courts set up in front of the large hotel and make for a concrete wall with steps on either side leading upward. Krandle hears only the sound of the team’s boots digging into the soft sand, the hiss of the zodiac as it is dragged across the expanse of beach, and his own heavy breathing. Reaching the tall wall, they drop the rubber craft and stack against the retaining wall.
There’s little sound as the team removes the wrappers from their weapons and mags. In an instant, they are ready. It’s all quiet except for the soft rush of small waves rolling up on the wet sand and an occasional cry of a gull as it soars lazily, riding the light breeze. Paper rustles at his feet as wind blows through debris piled against the retaining wall. Feeling the heat radiate from the wall with his shoulder pressed against it, he crouches in the silence, listening. There aren’t any shouts of discovery, footsteps pounding on the hard surface over their heads, and better yet, there aren’t any gunshots aimed in their general vicinity.
“You know, chief, we could just leave. Grab a vehicle and head inland to look for our families,” Speer suggests.
“That’ll be enough of that kind of talk, Speer,” Krandle replies.
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�m just saying, the longer we wait to go look, the less chance we have of finding them.”
“We may get that chance later, but for now, we’re staying, so stow it,” Krandle says.
“Okay. I gotcha. Know that I’m with you regardless. We’re all thinking it and it had to be said,” Speer comments.
“Well, it’s said and now you can drop it,” Krandle responds.
The very same thought has passed through Krandle’s mind a time or two. Thoughts of his family have surfaced several times and he hopes they are okay. That’s one of the major reasons he is now crouched on this forlorn beach — the desire to see firsthand just how bad things are. Even though he and his dad haven’t seen eye-to-eye on occasion, and haven’t really talked in some time, he would like to know that the old man is okay. His mom passed away some time ago from cancer; so it’s just the old man and him. He knows he won’t set off to look for him, though, as he feels a responsibility toward his men and those of the sub. He’s never shirked his duty and won’t now.
“What now?” Franklin asks after they wait several minutes to see if there is any response to their landing.
It isn’t like anyone with a view of the beach doesn’t know that they are there. Anyone in town would know the sub is here after the captain blew the foghorn. This isn’t like their other missions where they would hole up in hiding to see if they had been discovered during their infiltration. In those times, they would fold into the densest growth they could find and wait twenty minutes to see if they had been discovered. When the normal sounds of the area began again, they would relax, release the aerial support, and continue.
“We need a map of the area. I’d like to check out the hotel, police station, and any hospital that might be in the area. Those are places people would most likely hole up,” Krandle answers.
